


Heat, Sand, and Humbugs

by Hekate1308



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, F/M, Inspired by A Christmas Carol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Richard Poole was determined not to show his feelings for his sergeant. Shortly before Christmas, three ghosts were sent to make him see sense.A Christmas Carol AU.





	1. Stave One

**Author's Note:**

> No fandom is complete without a Christmas Carol AU, is it?

Charlie Hulme was dead. There could be doubt whatsoever about that.

DI Richard Poole had more reason to be completely sure of the fact than most, considering he had been sent to Saint Marie to investigate his murder over two years ago.

Still, it was absolutely certain that the late DI Charlie Hulme was, indeed, the late DI Charlie Hulme.

But he wasn’t thinking about him at the moment. Indeed, he had hardly given him a thought since he arrested his murderer, unless you caught the moments in which he had wondered how he had lived in the shack for so long.

Although he’d been living in it for a while now, too…

“Chief?” Dwayne interrupted his musings over the file he was supposed to be working on. He looked up.

“Yes?”

“You are coming to this year’s Christmas party at La Kaz’, right?”

He almost groaned – only almost, however; he didn’t want Camille to think he didn’t like her mother or the tea she by now habitually made him; but holiday parties had never been his idea of a good time. He wasn’t a people person at the best of times, and now, of course – he glanced at his Sergeant – he had a better reason than ever to stay away from…

Their eyes met.

He told himself he was being ridiculous when his heart picked up a pace, as it had started to do about a year ago.

Yes, he had to learn to be indifferent again, and he hardly thought that seeing Camille in another beautiful dress would help him with that.

“You are coming, right?” she challenged him.

Oh dear. Here it came. He sighed. “I don’t think I’d be conducive everyone having a good time if –“

“But sir, you are an integral part of the team” Fidel piped up. Richard liked the young officer, but sometimes he was too enthusiastic for his own good.

“I –“

“Oh come on, Richard, it’s Christmas! No one can celebrate Christmas by himself while reading a book!”

Somehow he had the feeling that it wouldn’t be a god idea to tell her that this was exactly how he had spent his last two Christmases… and come to think of it, quite a few before that as well. He and his parents weren’t particularly close, and he’d always been glad to take the holiday shift so his colleagues with children could have the time off.

Not that this excuse would work. The statin would close down over the holidays. While Richard had protested during his first year on Saint Marie, he had soon come to understand that no one in their right mind would consider committing a crime during the holidays on this island.

It was almost refreshing, after London.

If anything could be refreshing on Saint Marie, that was.

* * *

 

“Come on Richard!” Camille said, her eyes sparkling. “I promise I’ll only force you to dance with me when there’s a slow song.”

And the thought of dancing with Camille while she was looking even mores stunning than usual didn’t help at all. Especially if it happened to be to a slow song. He swallowed. “I’ll think about it” he finally managed weakly, hoping against hope that he’d find an excuse at the last minute.

Camille shot him a look that stated she knew what he was thinking, but was ready to let it slide – for now.

* * *

During their lunch break, Doctor Jules Caron came to thank them for solving a small theft at the hospital last week. For some reason, the handsome young man always made Richard nervous, especially when he was around Camille, but she seemed to enjoy talking to him, especially when she could tease Richard at the same time.

“Perhaps you could ask him for some tips on how to cope with the heat” she said immediately after he’d left.

“I am coping just fine.”

“No you’re not, you complain and you do absolutely nothing to make yourself truly at home on Saint Marie.”

“Because it’s not my home. We’ve been over this.”

The look she sent him – he would almost have been ready to call it a disappointed one.

Almost.

* * *

Dwayne and Fidel watched the back and forth between the Chief and Camille, as they were wont to do. When the younger officer looked at him, Dwayne simply shook his head and mouthed “hopeless.”

After all, it was rather pathetic that the Chief still didn’t seem to get what Camille wanted, while she was busy sending him every signal under the sun.

The only thing worse was that Dwayne was rather sure that the DI wasn’t aware how deep his own feelings for his sergeant ran, either.

Oh, that he thought her very beautiful and that it made him nervous, that he must have known. But thinking about anything deeper than that? Dwayne had his doubts.

* * *

 

It was the twenty-third of December, and it had 77 degrees. That just wasn’t natural, Richard thought miserably, as he yet again wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“You know, sir, you could always lose the jacket and tie” Camille pointed out once more. At least she didn’t mention Doctor Caron again.

Come to think of it, it had turned out that moments like this, when she could school him about something, was also the only time she ever called him “sir.”

“Thank you, sergeant, I will keep it in mind.”

He thought he heard her mumble something like “too English for his own good” but ignored it.

* * *

“He’s not going to come” Dwayne announced that evening at La Kaz, the Chief having had his customary cup of tea and gone home. “You know he doesn’t like that sort of thing.”

“But it’s Christmas!” Camille explained.

“Yeah, and he’s Ebenezer Scrooge. You know, bah, humbug?”

“He’s not Scrooge” Fidel exclaimed, “He’s a good boss.”

Dwayne had to admit that, but still wouldn’t change his opinion that said boss would somehow find a way to get out of attending the Christmas party.

Catherine, listening from behind the bar, agreed with Dwayne, but didn’t say so out loud. She’d noticed that her daughter looked crestfallen every time someone mentioned Richard not wanting to spend time with them, or rather, her; and she certainly wouldn’t make it worse by voicing her belief that the Inspector was as oblivious to her feelings as he was unlikely to act on his own.

If he even knew that he was in love with her daughter. Sometimes, when he was quite obviously jealous of others paying her attention, she thought that he was; but then he’d huff and puff and storm off again after only some light teasing from her, and she was thrown in doubt again.

All she knew was that things were bound to come to a head very soon.

* * *

Later that evening, Camille was busy picking a dress to wear for the Christmas party. Granted, Richard had said he wouldn’t come… but she thought they’d managed to mellow him a little during the last year, and anyway, it would do her no harm to be prepared.

She smiled when she came across a particular garment.

Yes, this would do very nicely.

* * *

That night, he had finally managed to go to sleep, still feeling hot and bothered, when he was rudely awakened at about two am. At least that was what his alarm told him. “What the –“

He blinked up from the floor. How had he managed to fall out of bed –

“Are you awake yet?”

The man he was looking at he’d only seen in photographs, some of them taken at the crime scene, some in the morgue in Guadeloupe; and even then, his body had most certainly not been see-through “Charlie Hulme?”

“That’s how I was, yep. How about you get up and we talk?”

Richard struggled to his feet. “Must be a dream” he muttered to himself.

“Hah. I wish. Then I’d be at peace. Instead I am here playing God’s messenger.”

Richard had never really believed in God, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. “What –“

“Alright, thankfully they told me you are well-read, so this should be easy. The usual drill. Three ghosts are going to visit you so you can learn your lesson, and… that’s it, really.”

“Wait, what – “

“ _A Christmas Carol_? You know, Charles Dickens?”

Of course he knew A Christmas Carol; re-reading Dicken’s Christmas books was the only concession he ever made to the season; but why or how his subconscious should choose to apply the story to him –

“Again, this isn’t a dream.”

“But – “

“And I am supposed to tell you that you better pay attention otherwise you’ll die of a broken heart or some such nonsense.”

“But –“ he tried again.

“Look, I did what I was sent here to do, just like always did. Charlie Hulme out.”

And then he was gone.

Richard, overcome by fatigue, went back to bed. His last thought was that he hoped his alarm clock would be loud enough in the morning, because otherwise he’d surely sleep through it.


	2. Stave Two

When he woke up, he felt disorientated and needed a moment to understand why. Then he realized; it felt like he had been asleep for a long time, but it was still dark outside.

A glance at his alarm clock didn’t help. It pronounced to the world that it was one am, despite the fact that it had been two am when –

No, of course it hadn’t been; that had been a dream. So he hadn’t really woken up at two am, and this was just him being a bit confused because he hadn’t managed to sleep through the night –

“Sound reasoning, dear, but I’m afraid that’s not what’s happening.”

He turned his head to find his mother standing by his bed, pale and transparent as Hulme had been, and pain seized him before he could even begin to understand. “Mum?” he stammered. “You’re not –“

She might have lived half a world away, and maybe they had never truly understood one another, but he still loved her.

“Oh no dear, don’t worry”. She pouted and ran her fingers through his hair. “Look at you in your pyjamas, and in this heat!”

“I – You said yourself I was supposed to wrap myself up!”

“I didn’t know how hot it was here, then! Now that I’m on Saint Marie –“

“But you just said –“

“Richard, there is no point in arguing with magic.”

There was in fact every point, considering it was hardly logical that his mother should stand as a ghost before him despite being apparently safe and sound in England, bit why should he say so? After all, this had to be some kind of dream –

“All that tea at La Kaz” he muttered. “Always knew the wrong sort would eventually drive me crazy –“

“Oh hush, you know you love the tea at La Kaz.” She smiled benignly at him. “And something else… or should I rather say _, someone else_?”

He’d really have thought that he had lost the ability to blush at anything his mother said by the time he’d reached fourth. “Mum –“

“You do realize how often you mention Camille in your e-mails, don’t you? Your father and I both started to wonder quite some time ago…”

“There is nothing to wonder about!”

She sighed. “That’s what we were most afraid of.”

That didn’t make any sense.

“We just want you to be happy.”

Considering he was still certain he’d always been a disappointment to his father, this seemed rather questionable.

She looked at him, then, with eyes full of sorrow. “You’ve never really got on, have you? Still, your father loves you.”

“Why should you know that, if you’re not even my real –“

“For tonight, I am, dear. Get up. Places to go, people to see.”

“But –“

“Richard Jasper Poole, I told you to get up.”

He obeyed automatically. She took him by the hand and started dragging him towards the door, as if he was still a little boy.

“But where –“

“You’ll see”.

And they walked… through the door. Now he was sure this was a dream. Couldn’t be anything else.

He was rather glad about it, too. There was something profoundly unsettling at staring at the ghost of his mother even when he knew it wasn’t real.

“You and that brain of yours. Can’t you for once just let things be and think about them later?”

“No.” He never had seen the merit of that. What was the point?

“You could listen to your instincts for once. Like with that sergeant of yours” she hinted.

“Mum, she’s not –“

He stopped talking abruptly when he realized they weren’t standing on the beach of Saint Marie, but instead…

In front of the Golding Boarding School for boys, where he’d spent his formative teen years. Despite the fact that it was clearly winter, he didn’t feel cold; but for a moment, he almost felt as if Mr. Doyle was about to admonish him for being out of bed after lights out and automatically looked around to check if they were alone. “What are we doing here?” he finally managed to ask. He hadn’t been back since he’d left the place for good, and for excellent reasons.

“I know you were bullied here, Richard. We just figured it out too late.”

He shrugged. “Lots of people get bullied. It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does” she said softly.

He only shrugged again. He’d never seen any of the boys from school again, and quite frankly, things had been far worse at Croydon.

“Why are we here?” he asked instead.

“Do you remember the Christmas we went to France?”

Of course he did. It hadn’t been nice to learn that he’d spend his fourteenth Christmas on this earth all alone in school – he hadn’t been friends with any of the other boys who had stayed. “So?”

She smiled gently and led him towards the door, which they passed in the same way they had that of his shack.

“There you are” she said, pointing towards his bed. How exactly they’d made it to the dormitory, he wasn’t sure.

He was reading, of course. _A Christmas Carol_ , of all things. How fitting.

At least it once again made him feel sure that this was a dream. His subconscious was picking up bits and pieces from his memories and, together with the fact that it was the Christmas season, had contrived to –

“Richard, dear, please. This is for your own good.”

And he watched as his younger self – really, he was remarkably calm considering he was watching himself – now and then stopped reading to pick up a letter –

And then he suddenly remembered. The book and the letter had come from his parents, and his teachers had held it back until Christmas morning, possibly in an attempt to make all the boys who had stayed behind feel like they were celebrating after all. For him, this had mostly meant that he’d felt even more forgotten until he had received the package.

He’d also forgotten that there was a letter to begin with.

“We did miss you.”

He wasn’t quite sure considering Dad, but he wasn’t going to mention it.

“Oh, dear, _of course_ he missed you to.”

He thought it was rather inconsiderate that his mother kept poking around in his head.

“Oh well, that’s for someone else to show you” she decided, “We have more places to be.”

“I’d rather –“

But of course he had no say in the matter.

“Where are we now?” he asked, feeling every right to be as irritating as possible.

“Croydon, the station Christmas party, five years ago.”

“What for?” he asked. “I wasn’t there.”

And with good reason. There’d just have been more bullying and snide comments, and he hadn’t felt like dealing with those more than he already had to.

His mother – or whoever was looking like his mother – nodded towards a small group that he recognized – Robbins, the night porter, with whom he sometimes used to chat to pass the time, PC Fitzgerald, if he remembered correctly, and DS Sally Ford, one of the sharper detectives he’d occasionally worked with.

“I don’t see DI Poole anywhere” Fitzgerald said as he stepped up to them.

“He doesn’t attend these sorts of things usually” Robbins answered.

Ds Ford shook her head. “I wonder why.” And then, to Richard’s surprise, she threw an oblivious Doug Anderson a glare. “I wouldn’t want to hang out with certain people either if they treated me the way they treat him.”

“You’re right about that” Fitzgerald said. “I have learned much more from watching DI Poole when working with him than any of the others.”

She nodded. “I really hope he’s having a good Christmas. No one should be alone this time of the year. Is there no chance he keeps a girlfriend or partner somewhere hidden, Mr. Robbins?”

He smiled. “I keep trying to tease it out of him. One of these days, I shall succeed.”

And then they toasted Richard.

To say he was flabbergasted would have ben an understatement. He’s never been the recipient of friendly gossip before. And he was completely unaware that there were people in the station who didn’t like Doug Anderson.

“Sometimes you just have to talk to people” Mum said softly. “You’d be surprised what you’d find out.”

There was someone Richard could have questioned regarding her feelings, or lack thereof, for him, but he doubted he’d have liked what he’d learn.

His mother huffed. “Again, someone else will show you that… I’m sorry but I’m only responsible for the past tonight.”

“So we are finished?” he asked hopefully, but she shook her hand. “No. There’s one more thing you have to see.”

He recognized the next place just as easily, since he went there several times a week these days. “LA Kaz.”

“Last year” she confirmed.

The Christmas party was as loud and filled with people as he had expected it to be. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to stay in his shack.

If he was being honest, another had been that he’d not wanted to watch Camille being flirted with by men who were not only younger, but more handsome and charming than he ever would be.

“Oh Richard, you really can’t read people all that well when they aren’t suspects, can you?” his mother asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

“I’m sure I don’t know…” he trailed off when he realized Camille was wearing a low-cut black dress, as if she’d wanted to look extra pretty for a special someone…

She shook her head. “Oh, Richard… just watch.”

His team had one of the best tables, of course – the upside of the bar belonging to a family member of one of them. Dwayne, Fidel, Juliet and even Rosie (while not grasping what exactly they were celebrating yet) looked as happy as they could be; only Camille seemed strangely subdued.

“Cheer up, Camille” Dwayne said, “Have another drink. You know there was only a slight chance he was coming, anyway.”

“But it’s Christmas!” she insisted.

“Even more reason to stay away, I’d say. He just wants to be left alone.”

“He’s nice enough” Juliet said firmly, “He’s babysat for us quite a few times, and Rosie adores him. You do like your Uncle Richard, don’t you?”

She squealed happily as Richard tried to process the fact that he was apparently an uncle now.

“Doesn’t mean he can’t stand to have a real party” Dwayne grins. “Ah, he’s decent enough alright, the Chief is. Just a bit on the quiet side.”

“When he’s not complaining about the heat” Camille said, her eyes wandering towards the door again. “Or the sand… or the French…”

“Fidel tells me he’s been doing that a lot less lately, especially that last one….” Juliet began and shot Camille a knowing look Richard didn’t understand.

She seemed to, however, since her face darkened as she replied, “Well, it would be better for all of us if he could just learn to enjoy himself a little.”

Dwayne chuckled and was treated to a deathly glare from Camille that Richard was sure must have shaved years off his life. He raised his hands. “I said nothing.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Ah well” Dwayne said, “I certainly hope the Chief is amusing himself with his books, if he’s not here. A toast on the Chief!”

And they happily raised their glasses – perhaps with a bit more enthusiasm and a little less pity than his old colleagues at Croydon had done – even if Camille looked weirdly wistful.

“I –“ Richard cleared his throat. He didn’t know hat to say. He’d known his team liked him well enough, of course, but he hadn’t know how much –

“You’ll get there”. Mum squeezed his hand. “Now it’s time for me to leave, dear. And please, call more often, yes?”

Tiredness washed over him. He wanted to answer, but could only manage a yawn.

Suddenly, they were back in his shack, but he couldn’t bring himself to wonder about it. All he wanted to do was sleep.

She helped him to bed. “Rest well.”

He thought he felt her kiss his forehead, but wasn’t sure as he was already sinking into sleep.


	3. Stave Three

When he woke up, it was still dark, and he lay there, blinking at the ceiling, wondering why he was feeling so confused.

Then he remembered. Mum. Or rather her –

No. If something had happened to his mother, Dad would have called it. It was a dream. Nothing more, nothing less.

“more a bloody nightmare” he mumbled to himself as he walked to the bathroom. Although there had been some nice things about it… His colleagues at Croydon who seemed to have liked him after all… And the party at La Kaz where, if he thought about it, it had almost seemed like –

No. That way lay madness. He’d had a strange dream, and now he’d woken up in the middle of the night. That was all.

“You should really know better, man!” a cheerful voice called out.

He turned and rubbed his eyes. This wasn’t possible.

And yet – there he was, the ghost of Christmas present, just like in Dicken’s story; down to the green robe and the beard.

“Well?” he asked. “Any further doubts, mister, or can we go now?”

“This isn’t possible” he muttered to himself.

“You are starting to sound like a cracked LP” he informed him cheerfully.

“I thought you were the Ghost of Christmas Present. No one listens to LPs anymore.”

He only laughed. “Let’s go, then.”

“I’d really rather not –“ He stopped talking when he realized he wasn’t going to protest being dragged around at night, but watching others have fun, especially if those others included Camille and undoubtedly countless young men who were better company and better dancers than he could ever hope to be.

“Ah, we are making progress, I see.”

He blushed fiercely. He wished they would stop reading his thoughts. “I –“

“Come on, we don’t have all night. Oh wait.” He laughed once more. “We do!”

There was little Richard could do apart from seeing the dream through to the end.

The Ghost – or whatever it was – huffed. “You will eventually come to see the truth. That’s what we’re here for.”

“For the record, making one of them look like my mother was unfair.”

“Ah, they probably thought you needed a proper wake up call.”

“Who are “they” anyway?”

“Not for me to tell you or you to find out” he said, still smiling. Richard considered anyone who was that cheerful either a suspect or a lunatic. “Point is, you are here to –“

“Yes, yes, I have to learn a lesson, although I don’t see why the cosmic powers that be would choose me of all people. I’m certain there are worse people out there.” He should know, after all. He spent his days arresting them.

“Maybe they have decided that one of the good guys deserves happiness for once” the ghost said simply. “Well then, ready?”

Before he could answer, they had changed locations.

He recognized the house at once, even though he’d only been there once in the last two and a half years. His parents had lived here for over a decade now, after all.

“Well then, let’s see jhow most of family Poole celebrates Christmas, shall we?” the ghost asked, melodramatically raising his torch to bless their door like in the story. Richard almost rolled his eyes before he remembered it would probably only provoke him to laugh again, and just how annoying his laughter could be.

Mum and Dad had their usual get-together of old friends and acquaintances. Since normally when he had attended, there had always been one or more women his age who just happened to be single showing up, he’d wriggled himself out of attending as often as he could.

“What –“ He’d been to enough assemblies like this for him to wonder what could be so special about this own.

“Wait and see, Richard Poole” the ghost said happily and led him into the living room.

“And your son is still in the Caribbean, Andrew?” Mrs. Garth, one of his parents’ oldest friends, was just asking, and Richard readied himself for a rant about how the Met had thrown his talent away – or maybe how he should never have gone to work for the police; that was always a possibility as well –

“Yes, he’s the chief of police there” his father boasted and Richard blinked. Was he –

“He just went over for a case and they immediately saw how clever he is and decided they wanted to keep him” he continued and Richard could only stand and stare at him. He’d never spoken to him with such pride in his voice.

“It’s just a pity we don’t see him as often as we want to” his mother said, a little sadly, and he reminded himself to call her more often. “But” she brightened up, “I’m sure we’ll find a reason to visit him soon, especially if –“

“Oh Celia, it’s hardly proper to speak of such things.”

“Come on, it’s Christmas!”

“What is it?” Mrs. Garth asked. There was no desire to gossip behind her curiosity, at least; Richard knew her well enough to feel sure of that; it was one of the reasons he had always liked her and, when she’d introduced him to her niece, he’d actually decide to become friends with her. He and Regina still sent each other post cards.

“You see, Celia has not yet resigned herself to the fact that Richard will become an old bachelor. So she’s decided there must be some big romance –“

“You know he usually doesn’t mention people by name that much in his e-mails!” She turned to Mrs. Garth, obviously excited. “I think Richard and his sergeant are in love.”

“Oh? That Camille he writes so much about?”

He winced; perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned her as often as he did; but they did work closely together, and there had been no reason not to –

“Do you ever listen to yourself, or are you content to just ignore what your heart is trying to tell you?”

Richard glared at the ghost. “Listen, I do remember what I told Camille on the night of the hurricane, and if my brain has decided to convince me that my father is –“

“I do remember when he was just a little lad” Mrs. Garth mused, “And then all of a sudden he got his bachelor’s degree in history. I still remember your smile when you told me that, Andrew.”

“He’s done extraordinarily well for himself, hasn’t he?”

“For God’s sake, if he were proud of me, he would have told me!”

“Because both of your are so good at communication. Just ask that lovely sergeant of yours. That reminds me…”

He beamed. “We still have someplace else to go!”

“I’d really rather –“

They left just as his father was beginning to tell Mrs. Garth the few details of their last case Richard had been prepared to divulge in his correspondence.

* * *

“Another year, another Christmas party at La Kaz! We come here every year, you see. Hard to find more cheerfulness on this island” the ghost explained as he blessed the threshold just as he had his parents’.

The atmosphere was much the same as what the – what the – what his other visitor had shown him.

Except for the fact that Camille looked even more stunning than she had the year before, wearing the dress from the Erzulie festival, or maybe she was just growing more beautiful in Richard’s eyes with every passing minute. That was always possible, considering the feelings he didn’t seem capable of getting rid of.

“Why do you want to get rid off them anyway? She seems pretty anxious to see you.”

And indeed she was spending a good portion of her time glancing at the door again.

“She enjoys dragging me out of my shell as she calls it. I highly doubt it has anything to do with…” Richard stopped. Not even in his own dreams, talking to a ghost, would he dare say out loud what he truly wanted, deep down.

He was never going to have it, so why bother?

“Alright, here come the big guns!” the ghost exclaimed, took his hand and dragged him towards a quiet corner, where Catherine and Commissioner Patterson were having a quiet drink.

Or not so quiet. She appeared rather agitated. “It’s ridiculous, Selwyn! They are both fill-grown adults, and somewhere beneath the suit, there must be some red blood in him – and yet nothing’s happening! I don’t think Camille could be giving him more signs that she is interested than she does already!”

The commissioner, to his credit, looked slightly uncomfortable. “I don’t see how there is anything we can do. I did try to give the Inspector a few hints last week –“

Richard blinked and remembered a rather bizarre scene in which his boss had indeed alluded to the fraternization rules during a meeting last week and assured him that they didn’t take them as seriously on the island as they did in the UK – he had actually attributed it to some indiscretion of Dwayne’s –

“Seriously, man? How could you possibly miss that!?”

“How was I supposed to –“

“Sh. Listen.”

Now Catherine looked crestfallen, and Richard followed her gaze to where Camille was sitting, looking more and more like she had been dumped. “I just want my little girl to be happy. And I do quite like Richard, you know; If only he weren’t so buttoned-up and unapproachable at times!”

“I’m sure whatever is meant to be will happen in the long run. We just have to be patient.”

“And how much longer is she supposed to wait? He certainly doesn’t have to get older, does he?”

He winced at the allusion at his age, but the ghost patted his shoulder. “She’s a bit upset because her daughter’s not happy at the moment. I am certain once you man up and ask her out, she’ll be –“

“I won’t _man up_! If anything, this reminds me why I’m wrong for her! I’m too old, and not lively enough, and too British, and –“

“The one she wants.”

“What!?”

“Whether you realize it or not, Richard Poole” he said, talking very slowly, as if to a small child or to someone who wasn’t quite right in the head, “You are the one she wants. And that’s all there is to it.”

“But –“ he grasped at straws. “What if they are wrong? For all I know, she could be waiting for some Adonis she met and –“

“Alright”. He dragged him past the team table to Juliet and Fidel, who were standing at the bar.

Juliet seemed worried. “Do you really think he’ll show up?”

“I was hoping it. He’s mellowed down somewhat over the last year, even more than before, and I think you are right about him and Camille; they do look at one another when they think they other can’t see. I thought for sure he’d show up and perhaps ask her to dance. She’s been dropping hints left and right, not even I could overlook it.”

“Oh, you are not as hopeless as you think” she kissed him. “You understand perfectly what I wanted.”

“Yes, but you know the chief; he’s brilliant, but I don’t think he can easily wrap his head around someone actually liking him.”

“I know someone who very much does” she replied, throwing Camille another worried glance. “It’s such a shame; she’s looking lovely tonight, and they’d make a cute couple.”

“Why is everyone convinced of that? I couldn’t possibly make her happy!”

“You really don’t think much of yourself, do you? What about that hurricane? She didn’t seem very unhappy then, even though she was stuck with you, did she?”

Richard stopped and thought for a moment. No, she hadn’t, but –

“No buts. And my time is up anyway. Well, Richard Poole, I sure hope you are going to learn your lesson. A woman like that won’t wait forever. Laterz!”

* * *

 

The ghost disappeared and suddenly, Richard was standing in a dark street in a city he would always recognize.

London.

For some reason, he could now feel the cold; and as he shuddered, he became aware of someone watching him.

He turned around and saw a figured in a robe.

Remembering the story, he swallowed, then carefully approached it.


	4. Stave Four

Richard silently followed the figure. There was little else he could do; but it was some comfort to think that he already knew where his life was headed, and that seeing it play out before him would change little.

He wasn’t surprised when they walked right into La Kaz again. There was every reason to think that he’d be on Saint Marie for at least another year to come.

It was easy to see that it was Christmas time once more. The place was brightly decorated, as Catherine never failed to do.

He and his team – he was getting rather used to seeing himself, all things considered – were having a celebratory drink after no doubt yet another successful case.

Camille was looking at him, a strange mixture of something like desperation and impatience in her eyes. He couldn’t quite understand what he could possibly have done to put that expression on her face, but assumed he’d annoyed her again. It happened all too often.

“Jules from the hospital asked me out on a date” she finally said.

Knowing himself well enough, he immediately realized that his future self was feeling the exact same things he did – that is to say, jealousy and resignation. He only to well remembering him coming into the station to thank them – a doctor, friendly, outgoing, and not only about a foot taller than Richard, but several years younger as well, much closer to Camille in age then he was, in fact.

He swallowed. A part of him had always suspected he was interested – quite frankly, who wouldn’t be? So seeing it play out shouldn’t have felt as bad as it did, but somehow…

“Oh?” his future self asked.

“Yes” Camille answered, sounding exasperated.

And Richard Poole – present Richard Poole – had an epiphany.

Camille didn’t want to go on this date. On the contrary, she wanted to have a reason not to go, and she wanted him to provide the reason.

It seemed like her mother and the commissioner had been right after all.

Every suspicion that this was a dream now lay behind him. The silent phantom next to him was too real for that – and what a paradox that thought was; but –

“Well, as long as you go on your own time, and don’t neglect your duties, I don’t see –“

But Camille had already stalked out of the bar.

Dwayne and Fidel were shooting him pitying looks that his future self failed to noticed, but he didn’t.

* * *

 

The phantom moved on, and so did Richard.

He couldn’t say why, but he knew that it was Christmas again – and exactly one year after the last one he had seen.

There was a Christmas party at La Kaz, of course, and it seemed that this time, he had chosen to attend.

Camille and Jules were on the dance floor, and it wasn’t difficult to tell from their body language that they were a couple.

Something in him pounded painfully as he considered the more than likelihood of the match taking place, and then he chastised himself. Even if he believed Camille was interested – even if he were ready to admit it to himself – he couldn’t. The commissioner might not think much of fraternization rules, bust he knew enough people who did. He didn’t care about his career all that much at this point, but he could never risk Camille’s.

He watched himself sipping tea in a corner, forgotten by everyone, as he’d always known he would end up if he attended any such event.

And yet –

And yet.

Eventually, Camille slipped on the seat beside him. “You haven’t asked me to dance” she said lightly.

“You have a much more suited partner” he replied in the same tone, and Richard wondered if it was the effect of Camille being in a relationship or if the longing in his eyes had always been that obvious.

“Yes” she said, sounding a little wistful. “We’ve been talking about making it official, you know.”

And suddenly, he knew why she had come over. One last what-if. One last chance.

And the fraternization rules had never seemed less important.

“Tell her” he urged his future self. “For God’s sake, man, just tell her!”

But he remained silent before carefully answering, “That’s usually the next step, I believe.” He gave her a half-smile and added, “I don’t have much experience in such matters.”

“No” she said, and for a moment, she looked sad. “I suppose not.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Joyeux Noel, Richard.”

“Merry Christmas, Camille.”

He watched her leave – both versions of him; and then his future self got up and went back to his shack, finally and completely alone.

“What’s the point in showing me this?” he asked. “I did the right thing.”

He could feel the ghost looking at him from under its hood.

“Fine, so I just – I was caught up in the moment. My future self thankfully knew that what she was asking for was impossible, and she seems perfectly happy with her boyfriend, so –“

But the ghost had moved on, and so he had to follow.

* * *

 

Of course Camille would get married on Christmas, he thought. Maybe Catherine had just asked her daughter to do so in order to have the two parties together.

He had underestimated how it would feel to watch Camille get married to someone else – and himself be the best man, standing there looking a little forlorn.

 _The road not taken_ , he thought before he could stop himself.

* * *

 

And the visions of the future didn’t end there, of course. Because whoever had decided he needed to be taught a lesson had also apparently decided that life had to be made as harrowing as possible for Richard Poole just so he would act.

And as he watched, it became increasingly difficult to remember why he couldn’t just pull Camille into his arms and never let go.

* * *

 

Camille, he registered with relief, was happy with Jules. Before long, they had their first child – a little boy they named Richard, to his surprise; and there had seldom been a more enchanting sight than Camille with her new born in her arms.

Richard could only watch as he realized how badly he wanted the child to be his, as well.

His future self did a good job of hiding that sentiment, although it was obvious for him; he congratulated the happy couple and soon afterwards retreated.

Richard assumed they would follow him so he could see how empty his life was, but instead they stayed.

“Your uncle Richard just is like that” Camille was telling the baby. “Don’t worry, he’ll teach you all there is to know about tea and English food and the stars before long.”

“As long as he doesn’t talk about your cases, we’ll be fine” Jules said.

“We talk about my cases” Camille pointed out, frowning slightly.

“Not in front of the baby, Camille!”

Richard felt – knew it to be true – that if he had made a move and Camille had somehow reciprocated and he were the father, of course they would have talked openly about their jobs in front of their children.

It was equally clear from Camille’s expression that the thought of not doping so had never crossed her mind.

So that was what the ghost had wanted to show him. Camille and Jules loved each other; they were happy; but they didn’t click, hadn’t clicked, as well as Richard and Camille had and probably never would.

* * *

 

This time, he wasn’t sure how many years had passed between this and the last vision he had seen, but it must have been several, for Richard was now a boy of about eight years of age and playing with someone who he assumed was his little sister on the beach.

Richard and Camille were sitting in the shadows, watching them, and it looked so much like a family outing that he had to look away for a moment.

The ghost pointing at them made it clear he had no choice but to listen.

“Me and Jules had a fight yesterday.”

“What about?” he asked, proving that he’d opened a little after years in the Caribbean.

“Oh, the usual. Richard spending too much time in his room with his books. I said we should allow him to choose his own hobbies.”

“He’s probably worried he’ll turn out to be too much like another Richard you know” he smiled.

“That wouldn’t be a bad thing” she said firmly.

As she watched the children, the Richard Poole from the future watched her; there was a sadness in his eyes he only understood when he changed the subject.

“I have an offer for a job in London” he was saying, not looking at Camille. “A promotion to DCI, and a pay rise.”

Camille threw him a glance, then looked away again, ostensibly to watch the children. After a pause that was only a moment too long, she said, “Richard, that’s great! Everything you’ve ever wanted!”

“Yes” he replied quietly, looking down at where their hands almost touched. “Everything:”

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

* * *

Many years must have passed since that day, Richard realized, because while he was not a young anymore, he was far away from the old man in a wheelchair currently busy doing a puzzle.

Ge walked to the window of the unfamiliar room and realized he was looking out at London.

At least he had stayed at home.

Even if that word didn’t seem to pertain to England anymore, these days.

A knock on the door, and someone who was quite obviously a cheerful and capable nurse entered. “Richard? Don’t you want to come down? It’d do you good; the tree looks especially beautiful this year.”

“No thank you, Carol” he replied kindly. “I won’t be receiving any visitors, so I’d just ruin everyone’s good time. I’ll be fine here.”

So he’d ended up in a nursing home. He wasn’t surprised. There were not many places for lonely old people to go.

What did surprise him was the honest sympathy Carol studied him with before promising to bring him some tea and cake later and leaving him alone.

But not for long.

Another knock on the door brought a young man around thirty years of age to his door; and before he could ask who he was, he began, “Uncle Richard?”

His eyes widened. “Richard Bordey-Caron? Is that you?”

He nodded and moved to shake his hand. “Should you be doing that?” he asked when Richard got up to greet him properly.

“It’s just my heart; the doctors don’t give me much more time. Too much work and not taking enough care of myself, it seems” he shrugged, apparently indifferent. “But I’m very happy to see you.”

“I’m here for a conference, and I thought I’d see how you were doing…” His namesake was clearly rather distressed to here the news about his health, but soon added, “And I am supposed to tell you from Maman that we have actual real British tea on the island now.”

And he watched as his old face was transformed as he heard that even decades from the day he’d last set eyes on her, he hadn’t been quite forgotten by his beloved, so far away.

* * *

Unlike the story, Richard didn’t reach his breaking point and start to beg; but he knew then and there, as he watched himself with the son he could have had, that he would do everything to ensure that Camille at least knew what she meant to him.

The rest would be up to her.

There was no shrinking of the ghost into a bedpost, no dramatic awakening either; he simply suddenly found himself in his bed on the morning of the twenty-fourth of December with a new mission.

Wooing Camille Bordey.

His text alert rang out.

_Remember Maman’s Christmas party today! C._

He smiled to himself.

Yes, he would remember; and he would come; and more than that –

It was time to acclimatize himself a bit better, and to surprise everyone.

And maybe, just maybe –

There would be time for a few other things as well.


	5. Stave Five

**December 24 th **

From nearly every aspect, it was another very successful Christmas party. Catherine could not be in doubt of that.

And yet…

Camille was still throwing glances at the door, glances that were growing more and more desperate, and she decided that her daughter needed a strong drink.

That fool of an Englishman, she thought rather bitterly as she mixed it up. Couldn’t he see what she wanted, what they both wanted? If things didn’t change soon, she’d have to interfere, and Camille wouldn’t like that.

But, as she put her drink in front of her, things did change, and not in a way he would have expected.

Camille’s face lit up. She was looking past Catherine, and as she turned her head, she saw Richard Poole walk into her bar, as he had done countless times before.

And yet this was not the same Richard Poole she usually made tea for. Dear god, was that a light green shirt with short sleeves? And where were his jacket and tie?

And – oh my, as he walked up to the team’s table, she realized he was wearing dark jeans.

“Good evening” he said, smiling – actually, truly smiling and clearly focused on – “Camille, you look absolutely stunning!”

Her bright smile was answer enough.

“You two look beautiful as well, Catherine and Juliet” he continued, ever the gentleman.

Juliet simply answered with a grin, but Catherine found it right to say, “Oh Richard, that’s very nice of you, but we both know I’m past my prime. We’ll have to rely on Camille to be the star of the evening.”

She knew that Juliet wouldn’t mind – and that she was laying it on a bit thick; but at this point, she would have given anything to ensure that his focus stayed on Camille where it belonged.

It soon proved that her scheming wasn’t necessary. Richard sat down next to Camille and – wonder of wonders – actually asked for a beer. She saw Fidel and Dwayne throwing knowing glances at each other as she took away Camille’s untouched drink; this was certainly a night where both she and Richard should keep a rather clear head.

Camille didn’t notice; she was teasing Richard good-naturedly about showing up after all, and he was answering in kind with that half-smile of his.

As Catherine brought them their bees, she said a quick prayer to Erzulie.

Five minutes later she knew it had worked. After all, Richard Poole leading her daughter to the dance floor was not something she saw every day.

* * *

 

She had no idea had had gotten into Richard. He wasn’t wearing a suit, had decided to have a beer, and had turned to ask her for a dance at the earliest opportunity.  

And all of that when she hadn’t yet overcome her surprise at him actually joining them for celebrating the holidays.

The first thing she said was, “I knew you could dance.”

He blushed. “Ball room dancing. Mum insisted on it. Apparently she never got over Dad not having learned how to do it. I can’t dance like you or your mother.”

She smiled. “That’s quite enough for me.”

The song ended. To her surprise and delight, he made no move to leave the dance floor, not even when the next musical number proved to be much faster than the last.

* * *

 

 _Sorry Jules_ , Richard thought to himself, _but sometimes you have to be selfish_. And with Camille in his arms, it was difficult to remember why he had ever thought this was a bad idea in the first place.

“So” she said, her eyes sparkling, “What about the t-shirt?”

“What about it?” he asked, feeling slightly elf-conscious.

“When did you buy it? I didn’t think you even owned one!”

“I do have some clothes for liming, as you might call it.”

“Oh? I’m really curious to see them all.”

It was rather obvious what she was thinking of, but for once, Richard didn’t mind at all. On the contrary. “You just might. If you can stand spending more time with me off duty.”

“Can I, now?”

He drew her a bit closer. She didn’t protest.

* * *

 

“Well” Dwayne drawled. “Seems like everything’s working out for those two. And about time, too.”

“They look very happy” Fidel, ever the diplomat, answered.

“A little more than that, I’d say” Juliet remarked smiling at the picture of Camille and Richard exchanging some no doubt very important remarks as the danced.

“Thank God” Dwayne announced, “I was about to lock them into one of our cells.”

“Dwayne!” Fidel looked shocked.

“Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t think about it.”

He didn’t quite know how to answer that.

And they toasted each other while the subjects of that very toast very rather oblivious to anything going on around them.

* * *

 

Richard, if asked, would have said that the evening was going rather better than he had hoped.

Still nothing could prepare him for Camille suddenly drawing him into the shadows. “What –“ He hoped he hadn’t stepped on her toes.

“Sh”. She pointed up. He followed her line of sight and saw –

A mistletoe.

Oh.

He looked down at her and right into her sparkling eyes, and who would he have been to deny a lady her Christmas wish?

* * *

 

Catherine was busy serving a customer when movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. With one glance, she made sure that it was Camille and Richard, and that they were –

_Oh là là. Well, a Bordey always gets her man._

She told the man his drink was on the house, smiling brightly.

It was a little while later that the commissioner and his wife arrived, both of them immediately noticing the couple in the corner – which they had been occupying for quite some time at that point.

“I see Inspector Poole finally understood that we don’t care much for the fraternization rules here” he told Catherine, looking bemused.

“Selwyn, for the love of God, if you are going to interrupt them just so he can remember –“

“Relax, Catherine, they look much too cosy to interrupt. Aside from the fact that we might finally get a permanent Chief of Police for our little island.”

He better become a permanent one now, Catherine thought. After all, he had every reason to stay now.

* * *

 

**December 25 th **

Richard wasn’t quite sure what he had expected. He had simply wished to let Camille know he was interested, have a good time celebrating Christmas with his friend (yes, Richard Poole had actual friends now, and he was going to _enjoy_ having them) and see what would happen – and quite frankly, for him, not having everything meticulously planned out was quite a novelty.

He hadn’t counted on Camille reacting so enthusiastically to their dance.

Or on what had happened when the party had broken up. In his defence, a beautiful woman taking his hand and leading him home and right into her bed had never really been something he dared imagine even in his wildest dreams.

But he didn’t mind one bit as he woke up on this Christmas day, nestled against Camille. She cuddled a bit closer to him and sighed contentedly before opening her eyes. “Bonjour, mon Coeur.”

Je knew enough French to understand that. “Good morning, my love. Merry Christmas.”

She smiled and moved to kiss him, whispering “Merry Christmas” against his lips.

Merry Christmas indeed, he thought as he pulled her closer.

They only made it to La Kaz in the evening, but not even Catherine objected.

**Twenty years later**

They had let him sleep, probably owing to the fact that the team had wrapped up a case only the day before, and Commissioner Richard Poole had once again not resisted the temptation to work it himself.

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, he reminded himself as he got up, although he certainly felt younger than his years. Two teenagers under their roof made sure of that.

As he walked out of the bedroom, he heard his daughter laugh happily, and as always, it made him smile. Maddie was a pure sunshine – he usually insisted she must have gotten that from Camille’s side of the family.

After he’d washed himself and changed out of the t-shirt and boxer shorts he slept in (wouldn’t his past self have had some opinions about that), he walked down the stairs.

His family was sitting in the kitchen, gossiping over their coffee (Camille and Maddie) and tea (Bobby).

“Bonjour my Coeur” Camille said, as always the first to see him. Richard stepped up to them, ruffling Bobby’s hair (the 15-year-old reacted to this attack on his dignity with a cry of “Dad!”) and kissing Maddie’s head before giving his wife a good morning kiss. “Good morning, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” Maddie cried happily.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He was going through a “too cool for everything” phase, as Catherine had dubbed it, but there was no doubt in Richard’s mind that he would forget to be morose when the presents came out.

“You’re not going to ruin my good mood, Grumpy” she said cheerfully, and Camille smirked at him. She attributed their son’s current grumpiness to his English genes.

“Your grandparents should land around seven pm” Richard said.

The last thing he had expected when he had told Mum and Dad that he was going to get permanently assigned to Saint Marie – _oh, and also, I have been seeing my Sergeant for the last few months, and it is actually rather serious, we’ve been talking about getting married, you see, and started looking for a house_ – had been them doubling their efforts to stay in contact and, in Dad’s case, to improve their relationship. These days, they spent quite a bit of their time on Saint Marie and Catherine was working on them to move here permanently, although Richard wasn’t supposed to know about that yet.

Bobby’s face lit up. He and his grandfather were closer than he and Richard hade ever been, but he didn’t mind. As long as his children grew up feeling loved, he was happy.

Camille seemed to guess what he was thinking about – she usually did – and, as she brought him his tea, she gently kissed him again. “I will be glad to see your mother again. Our climate is going to do away with her cold.”

“I hope so.”

* * *

 

Soon after breakfast, he ventured froth to make sure Catherine didn’t need any help to prepare for the party at La Kaz. He could have called her but considered it important to keep himself fit.

She was already busy of course, her youthful movements betraying her age. “Richard” She kissed his cheek. “Ca va?”

“Oui, ca va bien.” He had eventually been forced to learn French; in fact, it came easily to him these days, especially because his wife and children tended to slip into it unawares. He didn’t mind.

They talked about the preparations for the party while having a cup of tea together. “So your parents are coming?”

He nodded. “They wouldn’t miss it.” He took a sip of his tea and sighed contentedly – Camille’s was good, but no match to her mother’s. When he saw her smile he asked, “What –“

“I was just remembering when I made you your first cup of tea here. I could never have guessed what it would lead to.”

“Me neither. I just wanted to go home.” He smiled. “I couldn’t know that I had only just arrived.”

* * *

 

Christmas Eve was of course Camille’s and Richard’s anniversary as well, and everyone agreed to leave them alone for a few dances.

“Camille?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Merci.”

“Thanks for what, mon Coeur?”

“Everything.”

Camille kissed him. “Hush. And if we’re going there, thank you as well.”

He was thankful for the visits of the ghosts all these years ago too, but he could hardly tell her that.

Instead, he kissed his wife once more and looked forward to spending Christmas with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really hope you enjoyed this story, and have a very merry Christmas!


End file.
